The Sniper
by MayBlitz
Summary: In which Tim is badass, Raylan is Raylan, Art is pissed off and Bob saves the day. Contains implications of Tim/OC and language. Tim gets framed and everyone works to clear his name.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I did quite bit of research on this, as well as using imagination. So somethings are perfectly accurate and possible, others are just fiction because it works with the story, hopefully you'll work with me on this one. **

**Haven't decided on whether this is a romance or not yet, and it will probably be open either way. Hope you enjoy! **

Sometimes, when you wake up in the morning, you have that nagging feeling it's going to be a bad day. That feeling was how Tim felt when he got up. He knew he was right the moment he walked into the office, finding Detective Yorn and a couple of his officers talking to Art, who looked very pale. Raylan and Rachel sat stiffly at their desks and he was getting some very shifty looks from the other Marshals.

"Who died?" He asked Rachel lightly, as he picked up the spare coffee on her desk.

She wasn't amused, "A witness under protection, in South Lexington. Patrick and Aston were on duty, they're still pretty shook up."

Tim frowned, "Why's Yorn here? It's our case, isn't it?" He glanced over to Art's office, where everyone was now staring at him, Art motioned for him to join them.

"Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson?" Asked Yorn, out of formality, they knew each other in passing.

"Yeah. What's up?" He asked, leaning against the now closed door to Art's office.

"Florence Hecker, a witness under your department's protection, was shot dead last night," Replied Yorn, he pulled a picture out of a folder and handed it to Tim. It's showed the victim sprawled in a pool of her own blood, which came from a large bullet wound to the side of her neck.

"Messy," Muttered Tim, "Looks like the first shot missed, too," He pointed to the second bullet impact on the wall behind the dead witness. He glanced up at Art who seemed to be mentally telling him to shut up, Tim raised an eyebrow at him and continued, "You're thinking a sniper?"

Yorn nodded, "Using a Remington 700PSS, as far as we can make out."

Tim glanced at the photo again, "Yeah, that works with the wound and impact on the wall, I'd say .30 cal, probably 800 meters guy is pretty lousy shot."

"You have one?" Asked Yorn, Tim found the question a little strange but answered nonetheless.

"Yeah, it's in my locker, why?"

"We're going to need to take a look," Replied Yorn, Tim just gaped, Art looked furious.

"These implications are preposterous! You have no right to barge in here and-" Started Art, Yorn interrupted him.

"This is a standard procedure, Chief Mullen, please there's no need to get wound up. We'll check the weapon then be on our way. Now, the locker room please?"

Tim handed the key over to one of the officers who opened up the locker and started the poking around. A few minutes later he stepped back.

"There's no riffle."

"What?" Tim almost shoved him out of the way, having a look for himself but soon came to the same conclusion.

"Tim, are you sure you put it here?" Asked Art, hoping he'd simply misplaced it and forgotten about it. He knew it was highly unlikely though, not losing track of your weapons had to be pretty high up the list in any kind of military training. Tim nodded, Art didn't miss the slight look of panic flashing over his face before it when back to neutral.

"Well this makes things a little more complicated," Started Yorn, "I'm afraid we'll have to take you in for questioning."

"Oh for Christ's sake, you can't be serious! You really think Tim killed a witness?" Snapped Art, stepping between Tim and the officers.

"I hope not, but we have an investigation to conduct based on evidence." Replied Yorn, giving Tim an almost apologetic look.

"The first shot missed and the second was a close call, messy shot to the neck. I don't miss." Said Tim, glaring at the three officers.

"We know, but here you are without your weapon which coincides with the murder weapon. You're a great shot, how hard could it be for you to fake a missed shot?" Yorn sighed, "Please remove your sidearm, as a courtesy we won't cuff you if you promise to walk out with us without a fuss."

Art opened his mouth, but was quieted when Tim put a hand on his shoulder, "I know I didn't do it. You know I didn't do it. They'll work it out soon enough," He gave a sad smile and handed Art his gun.

As soon as Tim was out the door, Art called everyone to attention, "I'm going to need a list of all non-Marshal personnel who entered this building in the last three days, you two," He pointed at the two Marshals in front of him, "Go through every single locker, if you find a Remington 700PSS you tell me." He then stormed into his office and closed the blinds.

Raylan and Rachel exchanged a look, and Raylan followed Art, not even bothering to knock as he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

Art was pouring himself a whiskey, he got a second glass out when he saw Raylan had walked in.

"They have no motive and no murder weapon. What the hell do they think they're playin' at?" Ranted Art, Raylan took a seat opposite him and sipped at his drink.

"There was a 60k hit on Hecker," Raylan said quietly, Art gave him a look then added quickly, "Not that Tim's stupid enough to use his own registered weapon then pretend to have misplaced it."

"Unfortunately someone's IQ isn't a suitable defense," Sighed Art and downed his glass in one, "I better go downtown to see him, he strikes me as the type who wouldn't call a lawyer when he's innocent."

"Rookie mistake," Laughed Raylan, "I'll look into some other leads."

"Call me if you find anything, and don't steal my whiskey!" Cautioned Art as he walked out the door.

Art walked into the LPD and was directed to the holding cells. He almost felt like crying when he saw one of his favorite Marshals had been tossed into a cell with all the other common criminals. He noticed the big bald guy, on the opposite side of the cell from Tim had a fresh shiner coming through. Well at least he didn't have to worry too much about the kid's physical well-being.

Tim got up and walked over to Art so they could have a quiet conversation through the bars, being careful to keep his hands behind his back when he received a dirty look from the watching officer.

"It's a little early in the day isn't it?" Drawled Tim, Art realized he must of smelled the bourbon on him. He shrugged.

"When I die of liver failure, you and Raylan will be the ones to blame. Jesus Christ, how come you're in here? They told me you had a hearing, they already made a case, what the hell did you say? Have you got bail?"

"Surprisingly enough, I have." Replied Tim, choosing to answer the last question only, "Turns out not having any previous felonies and a history of military service comes in handy with some judges. Plus their case isn't too solid. Too bad I can't afford it." He eyed the cell and the other suspects in disgust.

"Well, if we all pool together we might be able to-"

"It's set at 80,000, boss."

"Well, shi-it!"

Tim cracked a smile, it was somehow comforting to hear one of Art's catchphrases.

"We're gonna get you out of here, even if we have to steal some cash from evidence-" Tim assumed that was a joke, but before he could make sure another officer entered and yelled his name out.

"You just got bailed out," the Officer walked up to the cell, unlocked the door and let Tim out. The officer behind the desk pulled out a box and returned all the personal belongings that were taken away from him previously.

"You got any rich friends?" Asked Art, as they walked out, Tim spotted a familiar figure leaning on Art's car as she smoked her cigarette. She noticed them too, and waved.

"You posted my bail?" Asked Tim, once they were within talking distance, she rolled her eyes.

"Hi Tim, I'm fine thanks, and you?"

"Er; yeah, hi," He replied awkwardly, she laughed and they hugged, "Just what are you doing here?" He asked, taking a step back. She was dressed casually, jeans and jacket, so not here on business.

"I heard what was going on down here, so I took a couple of days off and flew over." She answered, Art looked between the two of them before interjecting:

"Excuse me, Tim, who is this?"

The woman stepped forward, holding her hand out, "Erica Andrews, CIA off-duty," He shook her hand and opened his mouth but she beat him to it, "Art Mullen, Chief, I know. We're keen on having our info." She smiled.

"Yeah, that's about the only thing they're good for. Take away the fancy electronics and they're just smart ass liars in suits," Snarked Tim, Art was surprised but noticed Erica smiling back.

"Take away a Ranger's riffle and you have a monkey in tactical gear," She shot back.

"So you're saying you evolved from Rangers?" She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged, "I'm out of practice, give me a few days," He then turned to Art, who suggested they all get in the car.

"We worked together in Afghanistan when CIA and Military were cooperating. Inter-agency never works so well so everyone would continuously make digs at each other to ease the tension. We even kept a score board until it got blown up." Explained Tim, happy to keep his mind away from reality for a bit.

Erica didn't seem so happy about it, "The feds should have been down here by now, but I told them there was something shiny in Texas. Lucky too, you would have got Rousseau, he gets off on 'dirty cops' and wouldn't even have looked the other way. Williamson's on his way, but it'll take him a few days to get here, plus he's manageable."

"You can do that? Just distract the Feds? Shit, you need to come home for dinner, meet the wife and consider yourself part of the family," Said Art, she laughed.

"We going back to the office?" Asked Tim, sounding hopeful. Art shook his head.

"Can't have you anywhere near there, they'll take us all down if they think we're covering for you." Art looked in the mirror at Erica, typing something on her phone in the backseat then back to Tim, "Any idea who might frame you? Why anyone would frame you?"

Tim just shrugged, Erica called out from the back "Working on it."

Art dropped the both of them off at Tim's apartment, promising to drop by again later with alcohol if not helpful evidence. Once they were inside , they exchanged a look before going over the the whole place for hidden microphones or cameras whilst chatting of menial things.

Once they decided the place was clean, she turned to Tim, "I don't see this. I mean there's no reason to frame you. None at all, you don't have any particular enemies, nor would your disgrace help anyone in anyway."

"You think I did this?" Asked Tim, this time some hurt was heard in his voice.

Erica gave him a signature 'don't be stupid look', "No. I think there's a bigger picture here. We just need to work out what that is." She paused, studying his face for a moment, "You know, for someone who may well end up in jail, you seem awfully calm."

"Well I figure, should it happen, ain't gonna be in there long, just until you lot get your act together and prove 'em wrong. I sure as hell won't be anyone's bitch, it'll be like Afghanistan without weapons, sand or Taliban."

"Or me," She added, he rolled his eyes.

"You'll visit."

I already have parts of the next chapter written, so please let me know if you are interested! Also this works a lot better if you read it with a Kentucky accent in your head!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright here's the second chapter, thanks to all of you for showing interest, I'm loving the justified community already. **

**ArodLoverus2001: "I live and breath to do your biding," ;) Thanks a lot!**

SassyJ: Thanks for the interest, I've heard your pseudo somewhere before, can't quite place it though!

The Achivist613: Haha, well I always loved the idea of the least likely character ever being the one to turn the tables, glad you like the idea too! Thanks!

It's been a while since I've written anything at all, I'm more of a drawer, portraits and comics person (yeah, I'll illustrate as soon as I have time) so thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed, hopefully I get better as I go. 

It was 8 o'clock at night before Art showed up again, Raylan in toe. When Tim opened the door to him proffering a bottle of Jim Beam he knew to take it as a bad sign.

"Bourbon?" Asked Erica, looking a little disappointed, "I prefer Irish myself."

Everyone in the room looked at her as if she'd just grown a second head. She just shrugged, getting the glasses out of cupboard and putting them down on the coffee table as Tim cleared off the papers they had been going through.

"And you are?" Asked Raylan, as he adjusted his hat and took a seat on the couch.

"Erica Andrews, nice to finally meet you, Raylan Givens."

He gave her a confused look and Art muttered something about CIA and information. She shook her head as she poured the drinks, "Tim actually told me about you, the guy in the silly cowboy hat who draws quicker than his shadow. You ever heard of a comic called Lucky Luke? I think you'd relate to the character."

Raylan looked up at Tim, who was sitting on the arm of the chair, "You think my hat is silly?" He asked with fake sadness in his voice. Art looked disappointed that he apparently hadn't been mentioned by Tim.

"Nah, I said that when I first met you," Replied Tim, "Now I _know_ it's silly. but hey, we all got our 'things'."

"Speaking of 'things'" Started Art, clearing his throat, "How about this whole witness shooting thing? Raylan went out to check out who put the hit on Hecker, turns out it's not the people who would profit the most from her death."

"So who is it?" Asked Tim, knocking his drink back in one and pouring himself another.

"That's the thing, we don't know yet," Answered Raylan, "But we'll find out," He added quickly.

Erica pulled her phone out, and pressed it to her ear, "What you got? Huh. ... Hold on.." She fumbled through the papers on the table, apparently finding the one she was looking for and held it closer to the light, "Okay, read it out... Yeah that's the one. Shit. ...You're sure? Alright, thanks."

"There's good news and bad news," She said, turning to the three men who were now staring at her, "The good news," She turned to Tim, "Is that they've found you're gun. The bad news is that it matches the murder weapon."

Art rubbed furiously at his temples while Raylan pinched the bridge of his nose and Tim ran a hand through his hair. They sat there in silence for a moment before Erica spoke again, "I'd suggest the two of you go home, the last thing we need is anyone else being dragged into this. Stay as neutral as you can and don't punch anyone who is only speaking the facts."

"I'm guessing this'll be in the headlines tomorrow." Sighed Art, as he got up, Raylan patted him on the back as he walked towards the door. "Keep in touch if you find anything, we'll do the same. And you," He pointed at Tim, "Don't say anything stupid."

Raylan scoffed a little but covered it with a cough when he caught Tim's glare.

Once they'd left Tim walked over to the couch and let himself collapse onto it, they'd interviewed all the cleaning and maintenance personnel, so far everyone's story was straight. There was no evidence of anyone breaking into either his house, car or locker. There was also the fact that Detective Yorn had not hesitated to point out: he was a trained, cold blooded, killer. Not so much in those words, but the fact was if someone told him to pull a trigger, he did so, without pause.

To be honest he was surprised his friends hadn't started suspecting him. Maybe they had, they just didn't want to believe it. The whole thing was giving him a headache. He sat up and reached for Jim Beam, at least Jim didn't care either way.

The clicking sound of a Zippo distracted him from his thoughts, "Hey! No smoking inside."

She gave him a deadpan look as she took a particularly long drag and took her time exhaling the smoke, watching it circle above her head, "I paid your bail, as of now I own your ass and you don't even own this place."

He didn't answer, just sat back on the couch, nursing his drink. Her eyes softened and she leaned on the couch behind him, squeezing his shoulder, "Look, we'll get you out of this okay? I promise," He nodded, staring into the void in front of him, "I'm going to get a bit of sleep, timezones are killing me. We'll work all this out tomorrow." She gave his shoulder one last squeeze and exited the room.

The next day she was woken up by the Tim's land line, pulling herself out of bed she answered it, having heard the water running in the bathroom as she gone past the door.

"Hey, it's Raylan, Feds are here, Art's tearing what little hair he's got left out. Any chance you can drop by?"

"Uh, that was quick. Yeah, I'll be over there in like, a bit," She put the phone down and started hunting down the coffee, then decided to get it 'en route' since Tim would probably want to come with her if he knew she was going to the office and that would end very badly indeed.

She got dressed quickly and slipped out the door, sparing a few seconds to write him a vague note.

Half an hour and a coffee later she pushed through the doors into the bullpen, where two FBI agents seemed to be doing their best to tear Tim's desk apart, the one in charge, Williamson as she's predicted, was in the office with Art.

Raylan spared her a quick smile on his hurried way out. She took a deep breath and walked in.

"Hello Jason," She chirped, putting on her best sickly sweet smile, he pulled a face.

"What are you doing here Andrews? You can't pull a fast one on me like you did with Rousseau, and you're off duty so you have no authority here." Replied Agent Williamson, hastily, eying her as if she had a rocket launcher pointed right at him. Art, for his part, thought this was the best belated birthday present he had ever gotten: a feeb about to shit himself in his office.

She waved a dismissive hand, "Oh, absolutely, don't mind me, I just came to see my good old friend Chief Mullen," She winked at Art who did his best to stifle a laugh.

They were both a little taken aback when Agent Williamson smiled, "I'm glad to hear that, I wouldn't want you to get dragged down with Deputy Gutterson."

She scoffed, taking a seat on Art's desk, "Please, anyone with half a brain can see this is a set up. Marshals don't suddenly start killing off witnesses, plus if they did, they'd be smart enough to cover their tracks and not use their own registered weapon."

Jason Williamson wasn't a bad person, she knew that, he wasn't stupid either, she knew that too, he also wasn't stubborn and biased like Rousseau, so why was he pursuing this ludicrous lead?

"I thought that too, up until a couple of hours ago when this came in," He handed her the file he had been about to show Art when she'd walked in. "Jack King, pretty high up in the local drug ring, it's very likely Hecker had him implicated in her upcoming statement. Now if you look down his history you'll find he served in the same platoon as Deputy Gutterson. I don't think he's a bad person, but war can create strange bonds between people. Maybe _you_ should keep that in mind."

He walked out, leaving them both speechless.

It didn't take long for the blinds to close and the bourbon to come out.

"I still...I still can't believe he would do that, but this is becoming one hell of a set-up." Muttered Art, draining his glass and pouring another.

"He didn't do it." Replied Erica, leaning back as she took a sip, it was early in the morning even for her. "Got any smoke detectors in here?" She asked, Art shook his head, so she lit up.

"How long have you known Tim?" He asked, "Because I've known him for a while and I feel like I still don't know him."

"Coming up to ten years," She smiled, taking another sip and a drag, and continued before Art could ask for any more information. "See there was this target that no one could put a face to, let alone a shot. The previous undercover CIA they sent in screwed up and got killed. I was just a trainee in those days, shouldn't even have been in the country. I somehow managed to talk myself into getting the job though. The assigned sniper was pissed off about that, he was highly trained, highly experienced and didn't want the whole thing to hinge on some wannabe teenage spy.

There was already a whole lot of tension between military and CIA so they pulled him off the assignment, replacing him with a young, but very promising up and coming sniper, you guessed it: Tim.

Since no one had ever made this guy, aside from the now dead agent, Tim would have to read my signal to know when he had the right man. We met at HQ and he walked me through the whole shooting thing, having me stand next to a target while he fire at it, to make sure I wouldn't jump or do anything stupid and of course, so I would trust him to make the shot. He even tried to teach me how to use the riffle."

"He did mention you were a terrible shot, last night when you were on the phone," Mused Art, "How come they left you two alone?"

"Oh, well see, you're like Oprah in comparison to what they'd have done if we'd slept together. Anyways, the target was pretty smart and never stood directly in line with any kind of window or opening, so Tim came up with the idea that I should always keep my right shoulder on a level with his head. That way he could get his shot and only slightly wing me in the process. It worked."**[*]**

She downed the rest of her glass in one and stood up, shuddering slightly at the burn in her throat, "I've got a few things to check out. I'm going to bring you a bottle of Irish, she pointed to the bourbon on the table, "And you w_ill_ love it."

**[*] The CIA worked with the Military in Afghanistan, that's actually true, the rest I'm just making up, which is why I love fanfics.**

If you know better than me, please bare with me and feel free to point it out!  
Hope y'all enjoyed this new chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This one's a bit longer, I couldn't find anywhere else to stop, and it would have been too short otherwise. Guest star appearance from Boyd Crowder, who is wa-ay too fun to write (yet painful at the same time).**

SassyJ: Glad you're still enjoying this!

ArodLoverus2001: Thanks! Only time will tell. ;)

Raylan stood in the doorway to Tim's kitchen, enjoying his first semi-decent coffee of the day while Tim poked around in the fridge for something to eat despite not being in the slightest bit hungry.

"So, you two ever sleep together?" Asked Raylan, ever so casually. Tim slowly closed the fridge and turned his head towards the cowboy, and continued staring at him.

"What? It's a fair question." More staring, "Art's wondering too!"

"No," Replied Tim finally, going back to his fridge, ignoring Raylan's raised eyebrow.

"Why the hell not?" Time ignored him, so he continued, "You said you get on really well, and you've known each other for ten years. It's like you've done the hard parts, now you just got the fun part left."

Tim closed the fridge again and turned to face Raylan, "Did you seriously come here to ask me this?"

"No, I came here to distract you, so you wouldn't get all worked up or spend all day drinking or shoot anyone or go play 'clear your own name' vigilante."

Tim sighed and took a seat at the kitchen bar, pulling his own mug of coffee closer, "Not gonna say I'd never thought about it, but the middle of a war is hardly the place. Then when I got back I was just a screwed up discharged soldier with no idea of what to do now and she was a high ranking CIA agent. Then after that, I don't know, guess you get used to people being around the way they are, y'know?"

"What about now? You're a Deputy US Marshal and she's bending over backward to help you, that's gotta count for something."

Tim laughed, "Actually right now I'm about to be convicted for felony murder."

"That won't last," Reassured Raylan, setting his mug down and standing up straight, "I better go now, promise me you won't do anything before Erica gets back?"

"Sure," Replied Tim, it didn't sound terribly truthful, but he let it slide.

As Raylan drove down the road he caught headlights flashing him in his rear-view, he recognized Tim's car and assumed she must have picked it up from the office, he pulled over and she parked behind him.

"You found anything?" She asked, he shook his head.

"'Fraid not, you?"

"Kinda, but I don't know what to make of it," She replied, giving him an over view of Jack King's military history with Tim as well as his current involvement in the local drug deals. She then supplemented with the info she'd just got out of a guy in a shady tattoo parlor, whilst impersonating an FBI agent to cover her tracks.

Apparently they didn't so much deal drugs as they hijacked existing convoys, then sell them on, usually to their originally intended recipient. However word had got around now, routes have been changed and security bumped up.

"I don't know why, I think we're missin' something." Said Raylan, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I'm getting that, too. You know the official trial is next week..."

"I know."

When she pulled up in front of Tim's house she found him standing outside, leaning on the railings of the stairs.

"Great, you brought my car back." He walked over, requesting the keys with an outstretched hand.

"Where are you going?" she asked suspiciously eying him.

"Oh, going to catch a movie, get some pop-corn, relax and stay out of trouble." He replied, his voice dead serious, she rolled her eyes.

"You won't mind if I join you then?"

"You can't join me, you're not allowed to eat pop-corn, you have to look hot so that all the bad guys fall in love with you and tell you all their evil plans." He deadpanned back, she had to laugh at his idea of what her job entailed.

She hopped into the passenger seat as he started the ignition, "So really, where are we going?"

"Harlan County, going to visit Boyd Crowder, he usually knows what's going on down here, whether he's involved or not." Replied Tim, turning in his seat to back out of the drive.

"Who's he? The name rings a bell but I can't place it."

"Eh, guess you could say he's Raylan's on and off girlfriend. One minute they're shooting at each other, the next they're shooting together."

She raised a questioning eyebrow but decided to keep the 'who what why where when' for later, "Shouldn't you ask Raylan to check this out?"

"Nah, I think they broke up again," Replied Tim.

"Then I'm going to need you to hand over you gun." She said, holding her hand out expectantly. They'd taken his service weapon away, but she knew full well he had quite a few back-ups and then back ups of the back-ups.

"What? No. I promise I won't shoot him unless he deserves it." She just continued looking at him and he gave in, handing it to her with a sulky look. It was the most reasonable thing to do he supposed.

He pulled up outside of Johnny's bar, turning the ignition off and taking the keys out, "Best if you stay out here, they're not great with strangers."

"Nonsense, been working on my southern accent for a while now," She argued, loathed to let him get in there by himself.

"Please? They're a lot less likely to talk if you come in, I'll call if I get into trouble, alright?" He lent forward and gave her a hug, thanking her for helping him out and smoothly stealing his gun back. By the time she noticed he was out of the car and he'd put the central and child's lock on. She tapped at the door furiously cursing at him. Tim couldn't hear any of it through the thick glass, but got the jest of it, as well as the gestures.

In other words, they'd be a lot less likely to talk if she was there to stop him grievously wounding them.

He pushed the door open roughly, Boyd and Jimmy were sitting at one of the tables, Boyd gave in an annoyed look, but remained courteous as always.

"How may I help you?"

"Well you could start by telling me exactly what you know." Ordered Tim, Boyd lent back on his chair casually.

"Well I know a lot of things. You'll have to be more specific, Deputy Mar- Oh, haha you're a Marshal anymore, are you-"

Boyd couldn't finish his sentence as he found himself grabbed by the collar and shoved up against the wall, Tim's left arm came up, pressing against his neck, allowing him to breath, but not a lot else. Jimmy stood up and made a move, but stopped when Tim pulled his gun out and pointed it straight at him with one hand, the other still holding Boyd firmly in place.

"Sit down," Instructed Tim, once he was satisfied that the man wasn't going to move he moved his attention back to Boyd, "Now, I'm sure you know what I want to hear about."

"Well, that's quite unfortunate, you see I don't kno-" Boyd was cut off as Tim tightened his grip on his windpipe, then released, eying him warningly. "I may be able to help you, a little, but could we not have this conversation in a _civilized_ manner?"

"This suits me just fine, keep talking," Replied Tim, although he eased off the pressure when he felt Boyd struggle to swallow.

"A couple of fellas came into this very establishment last week, they seemed to be looking to hire a highly skilled marksman. I told them I couldn't help them. They then asked me who the best shot I knew was, I told them that I considered it to be Raylan, then on second thought, may have also mentioned your name."

"Who were they?" Tim pressed on, but both of them were distracted when someone else walked in. Tim ignored the very, very pissed off CIA agent in the doorway and repeated his question, reapplying pressure for good measure.

"I don't know! Couple of hillbillies, never seen 'em before. One of them might have been called Jake or Jack."

"Jake or Jack?" Repeated Tim, expecting an answer and further cutting off Boyd's access to fresh air.

"Hey, stop! C'mon now," Muttered Erica, pushing Tim away from Boyd, he let go, and Boyd slid to the ground, coughing and spluttering as he tried to get his breath back.

Boyd looked up at Tim and then Erica, a nasty smile forming on his face, "Well thank you for your help miss, who might you be?"

"None of your business," Tim put his gun away, "We're done here," He put a hand around Erica's upper arm and pulled her out. She didn't fight, or say anything. She could tell how tightly wound he was right now, and she knew well enough that he needed to be diffused gently, not pushed to the boiling point.

"You shouldn't have come in," He muttered as they approached the car and he released her arm.

"Would you rather have killed that guy?"

"I'd have preferred it if he hadn't seen you, should he be more involved than he says." Replied Tim, getting into the car, suddenly catching sight of the mess of wires under the driving wheel. "Did you hot wire my car to get out?"

"Oh, you thought I'd sit here and do nothing, waiting for you to let me out?" She asked, rolling her eyes she lent over and pushed a couple of wires together, the car started.

"Great." Muttered Tim, briefly flicking a few switches to see if the wipers, lights or stereo worked, "You've fucked up all the electronics."

"Yeah, well I was 15 last time I did this," She snapped back as he reversed out, "But seriously," She continued as he stopped to shift gear, "Never, ever pull a fast on me like that again. K?"

He nodded, she knew he was telling the truth this time.

They drove in silence for a while, both of them too caught up in thought to even make an attempt at conversation. There was a red traffic light up ahead, he started slowing down, but wasn't so keen on stopping, until he caught sight of a truck coming the other way. He slammed the brakes on and stopped just short of the light. The car following them wasn't quite so fortunate and slammed right into the back of them.

"Great, just fucking great," He ground out, getting out of the car to assess the damage.

"Eh, you had to go to the shop anyway," Said Erica as she followed, trying to distract him from what she could see boiling up under the calm surface.

Two large men, one middle aged fat Caucasian and one late 20's African-American with cornrows, got out of the car, once they'd backed away from Tim's SUV. His bumper had been clean knocked off, and both of their headlights as well front bodywork were smashed in.

It wasn't hard to guess they weren't going to be easy going, and normally Erica would have sat back and enjoyed the show, but this wasn't a normal situation.

"Hey, guys," She said, getting in between Tim and the other two, "How about you just give us your insurance info and everyone can be on their way?"

"Hell no, we ain't got not insurance, insurance is for pussies," Said Cornrows, his crony nodded in agreement.

"And we ain't paying for shit, either. I reckon a couple of thousand should cover it, if you ain't got it on you, we can come to the bank with ya." Well she hadn't actually thought it would work.

Tim frowned, "You were driving too close behind me. This is on you. I'm not payin' you shit."

"Look you can either do this now, or you can do it once we're done beatin' the shit out of ya." Said Cornrows, stepping forward.

"Ri-ight," Laughed Tim, ignoring the warning look Erica was giving him.

She moved closer to him, "Stop winding them up, Christ, just talk 'em down." She whispered, but he didn't look like he was going to cooperate.

"And if I can't?" He asked, obviously already having decided he couldn't.

"Then don't kill them, or I'll shoot you."

He nodded and she backed off, if this was going to boil over anyway, it may as well be here.

"That's right, listen to your girlfriend and start enablin' us." Sneered the fat one.

"That's not how you use that word, and she didn't tell me to back off, she asked me not to kill you."

They snickered, "Can you believe this guy?"

"Y' know, my buddy Marlo here," The fat guy gestured to his friend, "and me, we just got out of jail. So what the fuck makes you think we aren't going bleed your ass right here on the street?"

"Well, I don't doubt you two were a stunning power couple in jail," Tim spoke, voice heavy with sarcasm, "But it'd be a pity for you to go back to jail so soon."

He stared them down, the Fat guy looked a little hesitant until his friend told him to 'quit being a pussy'.

**Things always have to get worse before they get better. Be warned, there will be more car abuse ahead. **

**Been touching up on Tim's snark, hope it worked!  
Hope you enjoyed that, next chap will be up tomorrow, same time (whatever that may be, I'm a timezone ignorant Eurofag).**

**Ironically this chapter was largely due to Kentucky Bourbon. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: New chappy! It's long because, once again, I couldn't find a good place to cut until then without making it too short. Hope you'll enjoy!  
Also had half an hour to spare earlier so did a little sketch as an outtake of this chapter. I marked the place in the chapter where it fits and will post the link on my profile (I seem to recall links don't work on stories)?**

.

**SassyJ: I'm not going to disagree with that, hell I've never found a whisk(e)y I couldn't drink. Glad you liked it!**

**ArodLoverus2001: Haha, thanks! Hope you'll enjoy this one, too!**

Art had just finished his shift at work and was on his way home when he spotted two cars stopped just before the intersection, a red vintage corvette behind a black SUV.

There was a corpulent man holding a, now red stained tissue, to his nose and sitting on the sidewalk to the side of the car, not looking much better off than the other who was still standing, but seemed to be swaying a little on his feet. Then he spotted Tim and Erica leaning over what was left of the bonnet of the Corvette filling in paperwork.

He slammed his breaks on.

"What in hell happened here?" He asked, barely hiding the worry in his voice.

"Oh, hey boss," Replied Tim, an all too innocent smile on his face, "These two were driving too close behind, I braked, they didn't stop in time."

"And why do they look so beaten up?" Asked Art, eying Tim suspiciously. Erica was quite impressed at how smooth the lie went down, although it was a little too thought out to be credible.

"Not wearing seat belts," Replied Tim, he looked over at the two guys who nodded in agreement.

"What about this dent here? Looks fresh and has blood on it," Art pointed to the metal above the wheel arch.

"Tire blew, he hit his head trying to fix it," Tim pointed to Marlo, who nodded in agreement once again.

"And you're scraped knuckles?" Art was doing his best to remain calm.

"Well, I gave 'em a hand with the tire, the bolt were rusty as hell so my hands slipped."

They squared off for a few seconds, before Art nodded, "Okay, fine, let's stick with this story, I'm assuming they're going to?"

Tim nodded, Art then turned to Erica, "You were supposed to keep him out of trouble! And you," He turned to Tim, "Stop looking so damned pleased with yourself!" With that he angrily stomped back to his car and sped off.

**/Outtake/**

Once they'd finished the paperwork and Tim had made sure they knew that if they pressed charges he'd have the Marshal service take them back to jail, they headed down to the garage to get the bumper and ignition fixed.

"Someone try to steal 'er?" Asked the late 40's balding mechanic as he looked at the mess of wires hanging out from the dashboard.

"Nah, I did that," Replied Erica, Tim had gone to the vending machine across the road to get a drink.

"Why an earth would you do that?"

"He'd locked me in the car," She pointed at Tim over her shoulder and the mechanic shrugged, muttering something about kids being crazy these days. It would take a couple of days for him to fix everything, so they'd have to get a rental, he was right out of courtesy cars.

She suggested they walk the rest of the way home then call the rental service when they got back.

"Next time you can let me drive."

Tim almost choked on his drink, "No, just no. Remember what happened when I let you drive the Desert Patrol?" **[*]**

"Not my fault," She argued, "You said driving on sand was 'fun', you never mentioned anything about tipping over. How the hell did we get that thing upright again, anyway?"

"Picturing Colonel Howard's face?" Suggested Tim, they both laughed.

"Shit, he was scary." She agreed, they fell silent and Tim studied her a little closer.

"What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing?" She smiled, honestly and he tried his best to believe her.

Tim sat on the couch in front of crappy televisual entertainment he wasn't even watching. Erica had been sitting next to him but had dozed off half an hour ago and was now closer to using him as a human pillow. His mind unwillingly drifted back to the conversation (if interaction with Raylan could ever be called that) he'd had this morning, about him and Erica getting together.

He kept pushing the thought away, focusing on ways to get himself out of this mess, but a nagging voice in the back of his head kept bringing it back up. It wasn't until she stirred that he realized he'd been running his free hand through her hair.

She sat up groggily and he was about to awkwardly apologize for waking her up when she pulled her phone out from under one of the cushions.

"...Now? I can't...Well this is important too," Tim couldn't make out what was being said but he could actually hear the sound of another voice through the receiver now, and assumed the person was speaking quite a lot louder. Her expression didn't change though, "Fine, yeah, I'll be there."

The cut the communication and turned to him with an apologetic look, "Let me guess," He said, "You have to go."

She nodded, "I'll be back as soon as I can alright...Just stay out of trouble and we'll fix this, I promise."

"You keep saying that."

"Well, if I can't clear your name, we'll just change it and ship you to Mexico," She winked at him, before leaving the room to change into more suitable clothes.

When she came back into the room with her bag over her shoulder, he was standing by the door. She walked over and hugged him, "Call me if you need anything."

"What if you're in the middle of some crazy spy shit?"

"I'll cope," She smiled as she pulled away a little, then leaned forwards and kissed his cheek, unthinkingly he responded by kissing her lips. They moved apart, looking equally surprised.

"I..er," He started, not to sure of what he should say, "See you next week?" He finished lamely.

"Sure," She opened the door and started walking down the stairs, then stopped and looked back at him, "However tempting it may be, please don't skip out on bail. I get paid a fair amount but I'm not made of money."

He grinned, "Well I'm not making any promises."

The Marshals had been working tirelessly to find the real culprit in the Hecker hit, Tim knew that. They were also going out of their way to keep him out of the loop which annoyed him to no end. He hadn't heard from Erica since she'd left, and rather wanted to call her, but always decided not to.

Tomorrow morning he'd be up for trial, probably convicted and sent to jail and there was no way he was going to sit at home and watch the clock tick away his freedom. He left his house and walked into the first bar he found, regardless of how expensive it was, it's not like he'd be spending much money in the next fifteen years anyway.

He tried several times now to a) Get the information they were obviously with holding from him and b) conduct his own investigations, but Art had been monitoring the GPS on his car quite closely and he always got pulled over within a few miles of his house.

He sat gloomily at the bar, avoiding talking to anyone other than the bartender, when ordering his next drink. That was until a medium sized, curly brown haired man sidled up to him, asking him if he was the Marshal who's shot the witness because he'd seen the news and recognized the picture.

"Really not in the mood man," Replied Tim, not even looking at him as he down his drink and ordered another.

"You misunderstood, see I think I can help. I heard these guys out back talking about you, and some set up. I didn't wanna call 'em on it, cause there was several of 'em, but thought you'd be interested."

He was. He paid his tab and followed the man out onto the street and was then pointed down an alleyway which ran alongside the bar. Looking back, he really, really should have known better but the only thought on his mind was getting to the bottom of this, and the clock was ticking louder every second he wasted.

He'd only taken a couple of steps into the alley when he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

"What's up?" Erica Asked Raylan as her taxi pulled up in front of Tim's place. Raylan had been on the phone, but he pressed it to his shoulder and looked over to her.

"He's not here. He's not at the courthouse. No one can find him right now." He put his phone back to his ear, "Call you back in a bit." He nodded for Erica to follow him inside.

"Seems like he left in a hurry, stuff's been moved around a lot, I don't know what he normally keeps here, but there seems to be even..Less." He and Erica exchanged a look and he continued, "Something's not right is it?"

"Indeed," She moved over to a board with an assortment of paperwork pinned to it, and moved it carefully off the hook. revealing a locked safe.

"Huh," Sighed Raylan, "What's he keep in there?"

"Dunno, but if it's not empty then this could go towards proving this is a kidnapping," She pulled her phone out and started tapping at the screen.

"You know the combination?" He asked, moving forwards to get a better look.

"Nope, but I'm hoping I'll find it," She started taping in numbers, then looking back to her phone when it failed and trying another.

"Just what are you trying?"

"Any kind of number that could have a significance for him, I got his file right here," She motioned her phone. There was a click and the door slid open. "Bingo."

"Just out of curiosity, what was the code? I mean he'll have to change it anyway, right?"

"Date of first confirmed kill," She replied sliding the safe door open, Raylan whistled and she chuckled as they eyed the content.

"Well that's a lot of fire power. He never struck me as the type to prepare for a zombie apocalypse until now. So, whoever made it look like he bailed had no idea about this."

"Oh, shit you just reminded me!" Swore Erica, he gave her a confused look, "I posted his fucking bail."

"Well, eighty thousand's pretty cheap for a highly trained slave these days," Erica glared at him, "Anyway we gotta get him back now, so why would anyone frame him only to kidnap him before trial? Why do they need an ex- Ranger..."

"Sniper!" They finished together.

"The convoys no longer stop, so they have to stop them, but the security is so high that a team on their own couldn't possibly manage." Said Erica, kicking herself for not thinking of this before hand.

"So they need Tim to pick off the main guys so they can go in safely and steal the drugs. We're talking serious moving target here, and judging by the report on Hecker their current guy is average at best." Supplemented Raylan, "Alright, so we find out where he went last night, who he met and where he is now. I'll call Art and Rachel." He paused, "I'm gonna suggest we claim we worked this out ages ago and we were just waitin' these guys out, so we could make a big bust? And then the plan backfired when we lost Tim, which was entirely his fault?"

She nodded, picking up Tim's car keys, the house ones were no where to be found which made sense if he'd gone out on foot and never made it back. She couldn't believe they'd over looked this for so long. At least she wasn't actually meant to be an 'investigator'.

They split up, circling the block and trying to find anyone who might have seen anything, the bars were of course their first guess, but there were quite a few in this end of town, and generally speaking the night time personnel was not the same as the daytime shift. This could take hours, if not days, which they were starting to feel they didn't have.

**[*] I did a little research into army vehicles and saw an old one of these, figured if anyone was gonna 'borrow' it during down time, it would be them. If you google desert patrol vehicle you'll see what I mean about it turning over. **

**Hopefully the sketch justifies (pun totally intended) my bad writing skills. I completely dropped writing 5 years ago to learn to draw. **

**Hope you enjoyed it!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here goes the new chapter! It gets quite action heavy and I'm not that great at writing action, hopefully it'll be easy to follow at least!**

SassyJ: Glad you liked the last chapter, unfortunately it may be a while before you can stop saying 'poor Tim', but he will get his own back...!

ArodLoverus2001: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed, hope you'll like this one, too. 

Tim woke up, his head throbbing in pain (which wasn't that unusual) the strange part was that he was securely tied up to a metal chair, in some kind of rundown house come shed. There was a man standing with his back to him and Tim could see the outline of a handgun underneath the man's shirt. He gave the knots a tentative tug, just in case, but found no luck there.

The man turned around, he was fairly young, early thirties, Tim guessed, with light hair and brown eyes. He looked surprised to see Tim awake.

"Damn, you really are tough, wasn't expecting you to wake up for another two and half hours, at least."

"I'm not much of a sleeper," Muttered Tim, trying to find some indication of where he was, how many people were involved and just how bad this was.

"Is it true you have to do 49 push ups in less than two minutes just to get into Ranger school?"

Tim nodded, a little put out by his chirpy captor.

"Can you still do that?"

"Untie me, we'll find out," Tim said, deadpan, his captor's grin widened as he walked over towards him, his mood changing suddenly as he hit Tim hard across the face.

"Do not take me for an idiot!"

The door swung open and a dark haired man in his 40's rushed in. "Goddamn it Kyle, I told you not to hit him!" He turned to another man who'd followed him in, "Get some ice."

"I'm sorry about that, he can be a little unpredictable," The apology seemed genuine, "You weren't suppose to be awake yet."

"So I heard."

"I'm Jake, this is Kyle," He gestured to the blond and gave him a sharp glare for good measure, "And this is Ron," Who was now walking towards them with a make shift icepack.

Tim gave Jake a strange look as he held the ice against his forming bruise.

"Can't expect you to shoot if you can't see out of your eye," Explained Jake, smiling fondly.

Tim was starting to think he might actually prefer torture and beatings to this, which was verging on the creepy.

Once Jake was satisfied with his treating of the wound he pulled up a chair and sat opposite Tim. He explained the plan, that if Tim cooperated he could get his name cleared (they'd turn their guy in), get a share of their take and have the option of continuing to do business with them.

When Tim refused, Jake seemed taken aback, but soon recovered. "I'm afraid you don't really have a choice, this really is the best way, everybody wins. Won't you take a minute to consider it?"

"No need," Replied Tim.

"Ah, well then we'll have to do this the hard way," Sighed Jake, he caught Tim's bored look and smiled again, "Oh, no. you may think me strange, but do not mistake it for stupidity. I'm not going to waste any time beating you up. You are to remain unmolested until your role is fulfilled. I'm sure you have friends though, people you care about, who you wouldn't want to see suffer through your stubbornness." Tim's jaw tightened a little, "Ah, that's the look I wanted to see."

Jake sauntered over to the splintered table and started rummaging through a stack of paper, coming back with a few of them in hand. He held out the first one in front of Tim, it was a picture of him and Raylan in the car, "Well this one would be quite good, but he seems more trouble than he's worth. He could open his own graveyard and have it filled up with all the people who came after him. Hmm.."

He dropped the picture to the floor, holding up another, this time it was one of him and Art, talking outside a suspect's house, "Again, this seems like a lot of trouble, getting a Chief? He's bound to be well surrounded, plus going after a highly regarded Marshal, well that could cause a shit storm." He let that picture drop to the floor too, and the next, out of the corner of his eye he could see it feature Rachel.

"This brings us to our last, but probably best option," He held up a photo of him and Erica walking down the street the day his car got rear ended, "Wouldn't you agree?"

Tim swallowed, he was fine with not talking even if it caused him horrendous physical pain, or with lying to buy himself some time. But he'd never been that good of liar. Rangers were trained to be tough, CIA were trained to pass a lying detector when saying 'yes' to 'is your name Daffy Duck'. This felt like a horribly twisted role reversal.

"She's-" Started Tim.

"CIA? Yes, we know. No one can complain about someone who never existed disappearing." Jake's amicable smile now had quite an evil glint to it.

"Of course they exist," Argued Tim, having another go at the binds without any luck.

"I have an excerpt from her file here," Jake walked back over to the table, picking up a printed sheet and holding it close enough to Tim so he could read it. The ID picture was old and in black and white, but recognizable nonetheless. The name, however, was not hers, the birth date and place, hell no info on there was anywhere near what she'd told him, he didn't miss the year of her supposed death which was printed at the bottom of the page.

Jake easily read Tim's expression, "To be fair, I don't know if this is the real thing either, but it's no more of a fake than her current act," He turned to Ron, "Go and find her."

Erica hated driving big cars, they were so impractical, and parking was a nightmare. She'd tried to back into one of the larger, free, spaces but had ended up denting the car 'ever so slightly' on the lamppost. She'd recently been to Europe and felt a lot happier with a manual transmission, too. She sighed and just left the damn car next to another car, with the hazard lights on.

She'd finally got something worth while: someone fitting Tim's description talking to someone else who she'd been given a very vague description of, before he left and was never seen again in the bar. She asked to check their cameras, but the ones in the alley that ran along side had been short circuited. Of course. She called Raylan to give him the update.

"Well, fuck," She muttered as she walked back to the car, an old patrol vehicle was stopped in front of Tim's car and the short, overweight man it belonged to was pinning a parking ticket to the windshield.

"Hey! Hold a sec, I'm here, alright, no need for that!" She protested, running up to the car.

"Sorry m'am, double parking is strictly forbidden in this street," The man pointed to the sign on the other side of the road, which confirmed his statement.

"Yeah, but," She stopped putting her phone back to her ear, as she could hear Raylan's voice asking what was going on, "Hold on, Raylan, I just got a parking ticket,"

The man's face light up a little, "You're a friend of Raylan's?"

"I wouldn't go that far," She replied, ignoring Raylan's "I heard that!", "But if it'll get me out of the ticket then yeah, sure, we're best buds."

"Well you should have said so," Said the little man, smiling as he ripped up the parking ticket, and let the pieces drop the floor. Then bent down to pick them up, since littering was also considered an offense, "Tell him Bob says hi."

"Sure. Bob says hi."

"Hi, Bob," Replied Raylan, awkwardly.

"Raylan says hi, back," She then turned her attention back to the phone, "I'm going to keep looking around here, you pass the info onto the others and meet me here when you can?"

"Sure," Answered Raylan, before hanging up.

Erica got into the SUV and started the engine, freezing when she felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the side of her head. Oh, how she loved tinted windows.

Bob was about to drive off to continue his menial duties as police constable, but as the SUV turned around he noticed the rear shock absorber wasn't correctly attached. He turned around and followed, hoping to catch up so that he could inform her of it to avoid an accident.

The car sped up an old dirt road, Bob followed at a safe distance, it was a rough surface and should the bumper come loose, it could be quite a lethal projectile. He cursed when his car got a flat, it wasn't designed to go up these sort of roads.

He'd had a flat last week too, and hadn't got around to getting a new spare, he sighed and decided to follow on foot, there were only two cabins up here, so they couldn't be going very far. Before setting off up the road, he picked up his emergency bag, 'just in case'.

Tim looked up as he heard foot steps approach.

"Real estate market is really tough these days, huh?" He recognized Erica's voice before he saw Ron dragging her through the doorway.

Their eyes met, she grinned, "Well I guess this is a pretty decent excuse for skipping out on bail."

Jake kicked the chair towards Ron, who pulled it up to make Erica take a seat, one of his hands letting go of her as he reached for the chair. Instinctively Erica threw her head back, hitting him right on the nose. Jake looked impressed, but didn't make a move to intervene, Kyle however lunged for her.

She dodged his weight, but not the hand he threw towards her right after, she was knocked to the floor but twisted around finding an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor. She smashed it, holding the top and swung the sharp jagged edge at Kyle who recoiled as blood started spilling from the gash in his hand.

While this may have made up for her less than average marksman skills, she wasn't stupid enough to over look the obvious just to show off. Plus she was out numbered and not certain they wouldn't be stupid enough to start firing their guns in here.

She slid over to Tim, using the broken glass to slice the ropes and helping him pull himself free. This helped remind Tim he was actually here, and not watching a very entertaining TV show. Kyle and Ron stopped mid-way, eying Tim warily.

"Enough," Said Jake, pulling his gun out of his belt and leveling it at Tim, "As fun as that was, we need to get back to business here."

"You can't shoot me remember?" Replied Tim, utterly unfazed at having a gun pointed right at him.

"Maybe not you," Conceded Jake, twisting to his right so that he was now aiming at Erica.

She raised an eyebrow, "You know, I'm a way better sniper than he is," She said, Tim almost laughed, it sounded so true he'd actually believe it if he hadn't witness her skills first hand.

Jake seemed to consider this, looking at Tim for some kind of tell, "Yeah, she taught me everything I know," Agreed Tim, with his best lying skills.

Jake smiled, "Well either way, I still only need _one _of you."

There was the sound of a car door slamming outside, Jake frowned, ordering the other two out to see what it was.

Bob was breathing heavily by the time he made it up to the first cabin, there were a couple of pick-up trucks parked outside as well the black BMW he'd been following. He walked up to it, to check on the bumper, he noticed it was open and flicked open the trunk, just to see if there was any further damaged of course.

His eyes widened a little when he came across the black back, which unless he was mistaken, contained a sniper's riffle. He slung it over his free shoulder and slammed the trunk shut. He needed to check the owner had a permit. He then walked around the back of the house, to 'check the lay of land' before barging into the house.

He'd just rounded the corner when the two men came out to the find out why they'd heard a door slam. They started looking over all the cars and scanning the area, with drawn guns.

Bob came across a window a door with a little windows as he toured the cabin, he glanced inside and saw Erica and Tim with another man, holding a gun pointed at them. He burst in, his own gun drawn.

Jake instantly shifted to level his gun at the intruder, a little taken aback when he saw the short, fat constable who ordered him to lower his weapon. Unfortunately he wasn't given much time to appreciate the comic of the situation as Tim moved forwards, catching the gun. They wrestled a moment, Tim managed to make the clip drop out, the bullet in the chamber was fired through the wall and Tim very much enjoyed knocking him out cold.

He glanced out of the window, the other two were still checking the outside, probably assuming Jake had been the one firing the shot. He was considering how to deal with Kyle and Ron when two more pick up trucks made their way up.

"Reinforcement?" Asked Erica, hopefully.

"Yup, but not ours," Replied Tim, "We need to get out of here, before they notice us." He tapped the cabins wooden panel, "This hardly counts as cover."

He turned to Bob, and noticed the extra bag over the man's shoulder. He grinned, clapping Bob on the shoulder as he took the bag, "You sir, are underrated."

Bob seemed utterly confused at being praised and just nodded stupidly.

Tim moved over to side door, they all followed, moving quickly and sticking to the side of the cabin until they had a clear run to the trees. They only went a little way before Bob called behind them, completely out of breath. Tim sighed, he was grateful for the help in getting out of the sticky situation, but now Bob was getting to be an inconvenience.

He had a feeling they hadn't been missed yet though, so he allowed for a short, and strategically placed, rest. While Bob breathed heavily, Tim went through the constable's emergency bag, being quite pleasantly surprised by it's content.

He quizzed Bob about their exact location, so he could at least use the downtime to formulate some kind of escape plan. They were far too outnumbered to go for a straight gun fight now.

They heard shouting from the cabin and Tim nudged Bob into get up, they were going to need to keep this head start.

"There's a river a little further up, we'll head for that, then the forest starts thinning and we'll get to rocks, and higher ground. If we can get there, we should be just fine," He tapped his black bag, for emphasis, ignoring the look Erica was giving him.

"As an officer of the law, maybe I should-" Started Bob, Tim interrupted him, "You can do whatever you like, man."

Bob seemed content with that, and followed as Tim took the lead. Erica not so much, but followed nonetheless.

She'd noticed the change a few minutes ago, he'd reverted back to 'Ranger Tim', meaning there was no argument to be had now.

They arrived at the river, it was high, and running far to fast to cross over. She looked at Tim, who was still ignoring her, and followed his gaze up stream. He'd spotted a fallen tree which joined up both banks and started walking towards it.

"You better be joking," She muttered under her breath, she got no acknowledgement.

"I'll go across first, dump the bags, then come back to help you, alright?" It wasn't a question, it was an order with a question mark at the end of it.

The tree was quite wide, although the middle part had rotted away because of the torrent, so there was a 2 foot hole to avoid in the middle, it was also pretty slippery.

As Tim crossed, making it look easy, Bob got confident and took a step onto the trunk, it only took a second, once he'd looked down, for that confidence to shrivel up and die as he hastily retreated back onto the bank.

"You're not supposed to look at the water," Mentioned Tim, as he came back to their side, "It'll just make you dizzy."

"No shit," Drawled Erica, then she noticed Tim was staring at her.

"You're going first," Said Tim, she shook her head in protest but he caught her arm and dragged to the edge. "It'll be fine. Don't look down, just look at me, I'll guide you," She gave him a dubious look so he added, "I'll catch you if you slip."

She nodded, he kept his hand firmly on her wrist as he led her over, she kept her focus on him and didn't realize she'd reached the other side until he let go of her.

She looked over at Bob, who swallowed, knowing it was his turn, Tim crossed back over.

"Same goes for you, except I can't promise I can catch you that easily."

It took a lot longer for Bob to cross over, he kept stopping, or slipping, or looking down, Erica started every time it looked like they were going to fall. They finally made it over as they heard the sound of shouting getting a lot closer.

Tim rummaged through Bob's bag and pulled a grenade out, he caught Erica's look and rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to blow anyone up."

"I just have that for show," Started Bob, "You can't arm it, there's no pin."

Tim gave him an exasperated look, the kind that was usually saved for Raylan, "Yeah, kinda saw that," He shoved the grenade under the tree trunk where it was touching the bank, picked up the bags and motioned for everyone to move back. Once at a reasonable distance and covered by trees, he handed the bags to Bob as he pulled out the hand gun he'd got from Jake. He looked over at Bob as the pursuers came into view, "Believe it or not I actually have a bit of experience with firearms," He fired, hitting the grenade just right. It blew, they all ducked.

The pursuers stopped in their tracks as they saw the fallen trunk blown to smithereens.

**A/N: Honestly Bob, you're a great character, but there are some things you just shouldn't say to certain people...**

Art will be appearing in the next, along with Raylan and, of course, this chapter's cast.  
I do love writing Art though.

Hope you liked it! 


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:Alright, chapter six!**

SassyJ: The more the merrier, right? Or maybe in this case it would be the more the bloodier. I think Tim may be secretly enjoying this. ;) More action coming up! 

**ArodLoverus2001: Thanks! Haha, yeah I love him. I hope he's a regular on the next season. No need to wait any longer!**

**The Archivist613: Indeed, in fact very few people live to tell the tale. Thanks! Glad you like it.**

They followed Tim up the hill, which was now turning to rocks instead of trees, some of which would come loose under their feet. Tim never put a foot wrong and somehow always managed to catch them before they actually stumbled over.

While Erica had met Tim time during the war, she'd never actually seen the man 'at war', it was quite spectacular. She was actually almost feeling sorry for the bad guys at this point, knowing that if they continued on their way up, they'd be running to their own deaths.

Bob, for his part was seriously reconsidering his world order, trying to work out if Raylan was still the coolest person he knew.

Tim stopped at a rocky outcrop, with a good view of the valley bellow, decent cover for them on both sides and no hill behind them. The trees masked most of the dirt road leading up, which annoyed him, but it was unlikely they'd find a better spot at this time of year. They also had the advantage of the sun being behind them.

He set his riffle up on the rock as he heard the rumbling of a pick-up truck climbing the steep road. They were traveling at about 30 miles per hour meaning he had a bit less than thirty seconds to blow as many of they tires as he could. He got two shots off in quick succession, the car skidded to a halt. The occupants didn't get out immediately, knowing they were dealing with a sniper.

"Well at least they aren't stupid," He couldn't get a decent shot inside the car from this position, but the first guy to get out of the passenger side had it coming. The door opened briefly, he saw an arm appear then it closed again, he didn't pull.

"That'll be Jake, trying to get me to waste ammo on useless shots," He said, more to himself than anyone else. He sent Bob up to watch their backs.

They head voices coming from down below, under the cover of the trees, Tim groaned, he hated having to continuously switch target.

"I could slip down, get them from behind?" Suggested Erica, who was now wielding Bob's hand gun, as it held the most ammo.

"You sure?" Asked Tim, not taking his eyes off either Target for more than a few seconds at a time.

"Yeah...It'll be fun," She said sarcastically.

" Just make sure you align your sights properly before you fire. You always leave a gap on the right and shoot too far to the left." He sounded a little shorter than usual, she put it down to the adrenaline rush and possible PTSD.

"Yes, I do know how to fire a gun, Tim."

"Then do it properly for once," He snapped, "And don't let yourself get hit," He added, a little more quietly, she nodded and set off along the hill, before going down so she could circle the pursuit and hopefully come up behind them.

"So now we've lost her, too?" Asked Art in disbelief as he pulled his car up next to Raylan.

"Last person who saw her was Bob, but I can't get through to him either. Any chance the tracking device on Tim's car will give anything? She was 'driving' it." Replied Raylan, Art called out to Rachel, and she made the calls.

A black car came up and pulled up just behind Art's, followed by another car who pulled up behind the first.

FBI's Jason Williamson and his fellow agents got out of the first car, Inspector Yorn and his fellow officers exited the second.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Mutter Art, "In case none of you have realized this yet, this is a fugitive case therefor falls to the Marshal service. You can all go home."

"We still have a murderer to catch," Replied Yorn.

"And a dirty Marshal, not to mention this is a kidnapping now, which is _Federal_." Added Williamson.

"Fine, fine, just try not to get in our way." Sighed Art, then turned to Rachel who was running over.

She told Art about the location, making sure the others didn't hear.

"Okay, I'm gonna need you to distract these idiots," He discretely gestured to the suits surrounding them, "While me and Raylan go up there."

She nodded and walked towards Williamson, who was surprisingly responsive to her bossy tone. That's why Art loved having Rachel on their side, no one who knew what was good for them would dare fuck with her.

"Uh, are you sure that's a good idea?" Asked Raylan, as they got into the car (Rachel's, in fact, Raylan's town car would have been a waste of time).

"Why Raylan! I thought you liked chargin' head first into a potentially deadly situation without backup." Replied Art, with heavy sarcasm.

"But why are _you_ doing it?" Countered Raylan, "And don't you dare mention anything about a Marshal stiffie." He added quickly.

Art laughed, "I knew that'd stick," Raylan grimaced much to Art's enjoyment, "Have you ever read Lord of the Flies?"

"We're talking literature now?" Asked Raylan, a little confused, "Yeah, when I was about fifteen. Kids crash on an island and go insane, why?"

"Well actually it's more about them going back to being savages. Anyway I'm thinking these guys took Tim out to the middle of nowhere, and backed him into a corner..."

"Oh, if you think he'll be up there chantin' around a fire with no clothes on, I'll tell you right now: I'm not comin' along." Replied Raylan, Art rolled his eyes.

"That's not what I'm suggestin', Raylan. I'm thinking we may actually have to rescue the bad guys. Maybe talk down a trigger happy kid on a PTSD high."

"Then why the _hell_ did you bring _me?_" Asked Raylan, "Rachel would be a lot better at that!"

"Yeah..." Sighed Art, "But y'know...If you can't beat 'em join 'em and all that."

Raylan had to do a double take, mainly because the first time he wanted to stare at Art in disbelief, he almost missed a corner, "You're really pissed with these guys, huh?"

Art grinned, "Well, I'll admit, I've never wanted to shoot _you _this much."

They saw Bob's car on the way up, easily deducing he'd got a flat and continued on foot.

"His 'special' bag's gone," Noted Raylan dubiously, "Tim may actually turn out to be easier of the two to handle."

They continued on to the cabin, where several cars were still parked, one of them they recognized as being Tim's. After clearing the area, and gearing up in bullet proof vests, Art started looking through Tim's car while Raylan took the cabin.

He glanced briefly at the pile of surveillance photos that had been taken of Tim, himself and the other Deputies before exiting the cabin in a hurry when he heard the sound of gunshots echoing down from the hill.

"Well, his riffle ain't in his trunk," Said Art, as he saw Raylan, they exchanged a look and jumped into the car, speeding up the hill where the gunfire echoes had come from.

They stopped at a safe distance behind the stopped pick-up truck and got out of the car, keeping as much cover as they could. They approached the car with their weapons drawn, calling for the two occupants to get out.

"Hell no," Called the passenger, through the open window. He actually sounded scared.

Art reissued the order in his best 'I'm the boss and you will do as I fucking say' voice. There was hesitation, then the door opened very slowly and the passenger put on foot onto the ground, a second later there was a gun shot and a bullet ricocheted against the rock not an inch away from his foot. The passenger jumped straight back into the car, shaking.

Art looked up in direction of the shot and scowled as he saw a black outline atop the rocks.

"Goddamn it Tim, don't be a show off now!" Yelled Art, his voice carried up the hill and Tim made a mock salute before turning his attention to the other side of the slope.

"Come on now, both of you get out, I promise he won't shoot you." Art made sure not to say 'shoot at you' since he actually couldn't promise that. "I got this," He said to Raylan, "You go see what's going on in those woods over there. Try not to kill anyone, you'll probably need to help Tim with his paperwork as is."

"I thought the philosophy here was 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em'?" Complained Raylan.

"Well I changed my mind, if you shoot them, how do I get revenge?"

He nodded and headed in direction of the shooting. He moved slowly, from one tree to another, until he noticed movement to his right and moved on the target, weapon out. The figure turned around, weapon also poised for a shot.

There was a tense second before they recognized each other lowered their weapons.

"About time you showed up," Said Erica, smiling, then looked around, "Are you the only person here?"

"Art's by the car," Replied Raylan, sensing her slight disappointment, "Where's Bob?"

"Uh, up there with Tim," She gesture to the hill, "I think you lost your fanboy."

"I'll live," Reassured Raylan, feigning a hurt tone.

There was shouting nearby, they realized they'd been spotted and took cover just in time to avoid a volley of bullet headed their way.

"So," Started Raylan, "I'm gonna need to know, are you really as bad of a shot as Tim says you are?"

"His standards are way to high," Dismissed Erica, getting to her knees to glance over the undergrowth, hoping to see where the others were.

"That's not an answer," Argued Raylan, following her move, and they started moving up the hill towards Tim, keeping an eye out for any movement.

"Guess you'll have to wait and find out," She replied, winking. He groaned.

"Now strategically-" Raylan stopped as he heard movement behind him, he turned seeing an older man with a graying beard pointing a gun at him, "Well shit."

He looked over at Erica, she didn't seem to bothered, in fact she was grinning at the man, "You know, that was really stupid," She said to him.

He gave her a confused look, Raylan did too, wondering if she was bluffing and had plan or if she'd somehow become delirious.

"Your t-shirt," Explained Erica, "Is bright orange," The man tilted his head at her, but kept his gun pointed at Raylan, "Seriously, I'd put your gun down if I was you."

The man ignored her, deciding she was just wasting time and made to pull. He never made it as a bullet went straight through his upper body. Raylan looked at Erica, then up the hill where the shot had come from.

"Well shit," Muttered Raylan, unknowingly repeating himself.

"No orange, that's like, Army 101," Said Erica, shrugging.

"Any idea how many of them are left?" Asked Raylan, looking around warily.

"Four, give or take a few," She replied, he rolled his eyes.

"Well that's nice and accurate."

"Hey, not my fault, I was trained for urban situations, not this '50 years behind the times', Kentucky redneck crap."

"Yeah..." Started Raylan, "I didn't wanna come back here either."

Tim groaned, he could make out most of his badly disguised enemies, as well as an equally badly disguised Raylan (really who brings a white hat to a forest gun fight?), he was having a harder time keeping eyes on Erica as she was mostly dressed in black (which possibly annoyed him even more), but what really got to him was how easy this would be if they had communication.

Bob's riffle had been confiscated by Raylan, after the last 'incident', Tim had to agree that was a good idea, so Bob was using a pair of binoculars to give Tim an extra pair of eyes.

He was a little torn between going down their and helping them out, yet knowing he was in a much more favorable position up here. Plus they did seem to be doing the sensible thing and heading towards him.

He noticed Kyle heading away from the rest of his group, as a diversion, and saw Ron getting in place to corner Raylan and Erica once they'd fallen for the bait. He cursed when he realized their meeting point wouldn't give him a good enough angle for a shot.

**A/N: This is actually turning out to be longer than planned. Fun to write though, especially Art, as I mentioned before. **

**Bob should have a bigger part in the next chappy. Feeling sorry for Raylan, who may have lost his #1 fan... **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's chapter six, sorry it took a while, been busy plus I find that thinking about the next chapter for a longer time means I'm able to sit and type it down in one sitting, or so. **

**SassyJ: You haven't seen Bob?! (Insert shock horror). Oh, you're a fellow Brit, I don't get Justified on TV at all in France, I have to get it online, totally worth it, I don't know how you cope with waiting so long!  
Well I wouldn't want to spoil it for you! I hope I haven't already, I thought everyone was up to season 4. Luckily I didn't reference the events in the season much.**

**ArodLoverus2001: Haha, I think he'll survive, my guess is Raylan's ego doesn't need too much help. Here we go, this is a longish one, but not the end yet, I might even have a sequel in mind, we shall see. ;)**

Tim sighed and picked up his riffle, swinging it over his shoulder as he got up. "Not a lot more we can do from up here, goin' to have to get our hands dirty," He glanced over at Bob, who had also risen and was poised to follow him, "Er, don't shoot anyone unless you're sure they're not Raylan, Erica or me. Especially me, alright?"

"You bet," Replied Bob, worryingly chipper about the whole prospect of a forest shoot-out.

They slid down the hill silently, at least Tim was silent, intent on keeping cover as well as visual on the assailants, Tim still had his scope out, but gave up once they were too close to the trees for it to be of much use, trusting his eyes and ears instead.

Tim heard movement behind him and spun around, almost colliding with Raylan's back. Raylan turned around and grinned, nodding to Bob, then turned back to Tim, "So I was thinking of takin' a vacation next week, how'd you rate this place?"

Tim shrugged, "Not a bad view, but the neighbors are a little hostile. There's a guy trying to come up behind you, another one coming the other way," Tim wasn't really in a joking mood.

"I know, why'd you think I was walking backwards?" Replied Raylan, they didn't look at each other while they were talking, too intent on keeping eyes all round them.

Tim eyes finally snapped back to Raylan, "Where's Erica?"

"We split up, figured they were tryin' to circle us," Raylan raised an eyebrow, nodding behind Tim who turned seeing Kyle sneaking around in the trees a few hundred meters away.

He nodded back to Raylan, signaling for them to split up, to corner him, Bob gave them a questioning look and they motioned for him to cover them. He nodded, taking his mission very seriously.

They were both in position when Raylan called out to Kyle that he was surrounded and told him to drop his weapon, Kyle did the opposite, taking a shot in Raylan's general direction, Tim was about to take a shot when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ron advancing on him, gun leveled at him.

He would've chanced it, and probably won, but he saw the third man approaching from his right, a quick glance in Bob's direction told him the trees were too thick to expect any help from that end. Raylan was still being shot at.

He cursed under his breath, leaving his riffle on the ground as he stood up slowly, holding his glock up in a non threatening way, knowing just how easily these guys could spook.

Ron was within a couple of meters now and Tim was just considering his odds of disarming him then shooting the other guy and getting away with it when a shot went off and Ron fell forwards with a thud. Instinctively Tim stepped forwards, placing his foot on Ron's armed hand while spinning and making a clean head shot of the other guy.

Another shot went off and he turned to help Raylan by picking Kyle off only to see Bob standing next to Kyle's body. They're eyes met and Bob gave him the 'okay' sign as Raylan emerged from the trees.

Tim turned back towards Ron and knelt down to feel his pulse, there was none. He looked up and spotted Erica emerging from the trees in front of him, their eyes met and he realized she'd taken the shot.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged, looking a little paler than normal. He put it down the adrenaline wearing off. He nodded down at Ron, "Nice shot. Next time I think I'd prefer you let 'em have a go at me, the odds would be more in my favor."

She rolled her eyes at him, "You're welcome."

They could hear sirens approaching, and headed back to Art who was still babysitting the two guys in the car.

They could almost see the police cars coming up the hill and decided to meet them down at the cabin, since turning around up here with an extra ten cars would be near impossible.

There were seven of them and only five places in the car, Raylan was driving, at his own insistence, Art declared he was chief and thus deserved the front passengers seat, the two criminals weren't given a choice and were shoved in the back. Tim and Erica both decided they preferred the idea of riding along on the running boards rather than sit with those two, so Bob was seated in the middle, making it quite a sight to see.

Unluckily for her, Erica was on the passenger side, which seemed to be the most overgrown side of the path, she glared at Tim who was laughing at her every time she had to duck or squish up against the car to avoid branches and spikes, and he tried to coax Raylan into going faster.

She joined in the laughing when Tim, too amused at her current misery, forgot to avoid a stray branch on his side. The laughter was more nervous than through genuine amusement, but it seemed to do the trick anyway. Raylan and Art exchanged a worried look but said nothing.

They dropped the two of them off to get Tim's car just as the LPD and FBI cars made the cabin. There was a brief altercation but Art soon sent them on their way up the hill, Raylan giving them instructions on where they could find the bodies and Bob proudly handing over the two arrested men much to Yorn's surprise.

"I'll meet you back at the office, alright?" Said Tim, Art and Raylan exchanged a disapproving look but took the hint.

"Don't be too long, else they'll be no Bourbon left," Replied Art, his expression giving the joke away as being an order. Tim nodded and waited until they had left before slipping past a couple of LPD and officers and entering the cabin, he found the paper he was looking for on the floor and snatched it up just before one of the police officers came in and gave him a suspicious look. He returned his best angelic expression, excused himself and walked out.

He needed to take a better look at the paper, but didn't dare do it out in the open, with so many law enforcement officers circling the area, he searched around for Erica instead, but couldn't see her. He walked around the side of the cabin and saw her hunched over, one hand on the wall for support, obviously throwing up.

She straightened up shakily as he walked over, putting his arm under hers in case she lost balanced. She looked really bad now.

"Must have hit your head pretty hard on the ride down, huh?" He helped her move away from the wall and headed back to the car, "Better swing by the hospital on the way back."

"Uh, no. I'm fine it's, not that," She replied running a hand through her hair, to pull herself together, picking a couple of leaves out of it in the process.

"You're fine? Really? I thought you were good at lying."

She forced a smile, and made a move to open the passenger door to prove her point, he put his hand flat against the car, stopping her as he stood straight in front of her.

"I remember having this exact conversation at least five times before, granted I wasn't playing this role, but you never let me get away with that, now spit it out."

"These conversations were always had over drinks, I'm at a disadvantage," She protested, he didn't budge. This was as good a practice as he was going for when he'd have to corner her about the fake ID. It hadn't surprised him, but he was still a little put off she'd never mentioned it. He pushed that to the back of his mind, there'd be time for that later.

"I just...Never killed anyone before," She gave a half smile, he was stunned and didn't really know what to say, they stared at each other in silence for a moment, she hung her head, half smiling still, "And now I feel like a virgin telling a whore she just got felt up."

He frowned at her, she looked up again, "Oh, you know what I mean."

He shrugged, "That's a shitty comparison," He started, she looked a little worried she'd over stepped so he smirked as he added, "I never got regulars, for some reason."

They laughed, obviously both hesitating on whether to go down that road, or just change the subject while they could still coin it as a joke.

They seemed to disagree on the direction.

"Erica..."

"Eh, I'll get over it," She waved off, noting he had no problem when the issues were someone else's.

She was surprised when he scoffed at her, "You never get over that shit," He muttered, pushing away from the car, "You'll get your head around it, sure. You'll accept it happened, cause it did, but that's 'bout as far as you get." He turned away, "Could be wrong, maybe that's just me." He shrugged and walked around the car, pausing at the back at he noted the new dent and the state of his rear shock absorber.

"God damn it, did you smash my car up?"

"Huh?" She asked, joining him at the back with her best confused and naive expression, which was a much better attempt at innocence than his, he noted, "When did that happen?"

He gave her a knowing look but didn't push it, even when she let a grin slip just before she turned away to get into the passenger side. Shaking his head he gave the bumper a bit of a tug to insure it would hold the trip back then got in.

He sat in the car and glanced over at her, sighing he decided now was as good a time as any, he shifted a little, to fish the paper out of his back pocket and handed to her. She gave him a confused look but took it and proceeded to unfold it.

"Well shit," She cursed, as she saw her photo in the top left corner along with all the other information, "Where did you..?"

"They had it, decided to show it to me. Figured I better pick it up before the clowns out there did," He gestured to the LPD and FBI still milling around outside, "Thanks for trustin' me with the info, by the way."

She gave him a half guilty, half apologetic look, "I'm sorry, if it makes things any better I always thought of 'Erica' as being my 'real' name, since all people who even come close to knowing me call me that."

She looked at him, waiting for a reply, he didn't look angry, hell he was surprised he didn't even feel angry, he shrugged and twisted the key in the ignition, starting up the SUV, "Guess I shoulda known, what kind of CIA would go by their real name anyway?"

She grinned, and he gestured to the paper she was still holding, "You going to burn that, or somethin'?"

"No, I might need it to work out where they got it. It's a little worrying, I mean we're hardly in the business of printing sensitive info out, in fact there's an office wide ban on it, digital files can be remotely altered or deleted. Paper is the enemy according to my boss."

Tim laughed, "Shit, I wish Art had the same opinion on paper, my life would be way more fun," He paused, and made a move to take the paper back, she didn't stop him. Watching him as his eyes scanned over it then turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "You're _six_ years younger than me?"

"You knew that," She replied as he put the car in motion. He shook his head.

"I thought you were eighteen when we met."

She grinned, "I was. On paper, anyway."

"Shit, now I feel bad for all shit we said in front of you," He sighed, making her laugh.

"I learned a lot of new words, not mention the wonderful details of one night stands, hookers and-"

"Yeah, okay, no need to rub it in. At least I didn't come onto you. I'd love to see Ben's face knowin' he'd propositioned a kid in a cave..."

They laughed, reminiscing about that particular trip across the desert, making sure to stay clear of the unpleasant memories. A small mention of his bail was made when he said something about smoking in the car. One look and he'd popped open the ashtray.

When they arrived back at the Marshal's office the room went silent, some of the people present got up to tell Tim they were glad he was back, others just looked straight in front, pretending he wasn't there. It wasn't hard to guess those were the ones who had been too quick to rule against him. Apparently the story had made it's way around the office, several people asked him if he'd really blown up a tree trunk by shooting a disarmed grenade. Other asked him if he'd saved Raylan's life. All in all Tim guessed Bob had been talking about him to anyone who would listen.

They made their way to Art's office, the blinds were down and the door was closed, they were admitted inside on the first knock, and offered a drink.

"So you got a full confession?" Asked Tim, taking a seat, "They didn't seem like push over types."

"Well, after your little stunt up on the mountain, they'd do just about anything to not get shot by you," Replied Art, keeping his face serious, so that Tim wouldn't think he approved, even if deep down, he really did.

"What about Jack King?" Asked Erica, ignoring the surprised look she got from Tim.

"He died three years ago," Muttered Tim, Art cocked his head, looking down at the file in front of him.

"Really? It doesn't say so anywhere here."

"Widow's short of cash, pension really helps, no need to shout it off the roof tops," Art gave Tim an incredulous look and Tim just shrugged, taking another mouthful of Bourbon, "You know if you'd actually kept me in the loop I coulda told you that."

"Well I'll make sure to tell the feds that next time you should be head investigator on your own murder charges," Said Art, with heavy sarcasm, then sighed, "Tomorrow's going to be a long day, I've got everyone from the DEA to the AUSA cuing up to have a word with you."

"Anyone feel like shootin' me?" Asked Tim, looking at everyone in turn, hopefully.

"Most of the time," Replied Rachel, smiling, "But right now it seems like it'd be more fun not to."

"Raylan? C'mon, you didn't shoot anyone today, it's makin' you look bad."

Raylan smiled, "I can live with that, I'm startin' to understand your views when I'm the one in trouble now."

Tim slouched back on the couch, defeated, gladly accepting the bottle Rachel was handing him in sympathy. Well if he had to sit through all this crap tomorrow, he may as well do it with a hangover.

Erica's phone suddenly made a loud beeping sound, she cursed and pulled it out of her pocket. It was in silent mode, as always, a beep was a very bad sign.

"Well shit," She muttered reading the screen, Raylan, Rachel and Tim moved so they could get a glimpse of the message, but it proved to be unreadable.

"Is that some kind of secret code?" Asked Raylan, still squinting determinedly at the screen.

"Looks more like Russian to me," Put in Rachel, having another look before finally sitting down.

"You use Russian to send secret information?" Asked Art, sounding a little disappointed.

"Oh no," Replied Erica, "This isn't so much secret as it is..Expletive," She stopped reading, "If we need to send something in code we use Tim's hand writing."

Tim rolled his eyes while the others laughed.

"That can't be true," Started Art, "You have to have a working cipher. Tim's hand writing is undecipherable."

"You could use an edited version," Suggested Raylan, Tim rolled his eyes again and turned back to Erica.

"Are you in trouble?"

"Uh, you could say that. I'm being sent to Canada." She replied as if it explained everything, the other's expressions made it clear it didn't. "You know when you fuck up you get put on desk duty or prisoner transport? Well I get sent somewhere with not a whole lot to do. Last time it was the south east of France, but at least they had the Russian Mob down there. Turned out quite fun. But then they reassigned me to Iceland," She pulled a face, "It's fucking cold."

Art turned to Raylan, smiling, "Hey, Raylan, guess where you're going next time you fuck up."

"You really need to not give him ideas," Muttered Raylan, scowling at Erica, she returned a wide grin.

They had another few drinks then decided to call it a night, Rachel was the first to leave, Raylan followed shortly after, easily taking the hint that there was a private conversation waiting to be had.

Once he'd left and closed to the door, Erica stood up, smiling at Art. Art wondered why he had such a bad feeling all of a sudden.

"The two arrested are due to be transported tomorrow, right?" Art nodded, so she continued, "I'm going to need in on the transport, also going to need Tim to do it."

Art gaped at her, before recovering himself, "Do you have any idea of the amount of shit that would cause? And I'm just talking about assigning Tim here, you can't be part of a prisoner transport, you're not a-"

"US Marshal?" Asked Erica, holding up a shiny little badge along with a Marshal's ID, her picture clearly on the front.

"This is why I hate Agencies," Muttered Art, "Okay, you can go, but how about I assign Raylan, not Tim?"

He looked between Erica and Tim, who shrugged, "I've got a busy day tomorrow anyway."

"Alright, then," Agreed Erica, "Don't suppose he has a hatless option?"

"If you find it I'm putting a plaque with your name up on the wall."

**Hope you enjoyed it! Not much more to go now. Gonna upload this before the storm cuts my internet off! **


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